


A boy  and his mom ...

by Kahtya Sofia (KahtyaSofia)



Series: A Boy And His Mom [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/Kahtya%20Sofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin - a story about a boy growing up and his relationship with his mom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A boy  and his mom ...

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd, all errors my own. For some strange reason, my brain does not want to write porn right now. Brad does have a totally awesome dad, but this story is about Brad and his mom.

Brad sat stiffly on the side of his bed, staring out the window of his room. His clenched fists were pressed tightly to the insides of his thighs. He refused to watch his mother packing up his belongings.

A large duffel lay open on the foot of his bed. Into it, Brad’s mother carefully placed a few articles of street clothes, the majority of his underwear and socks, and a few toiletries. She’d told him he’d be fitted for his uniforms when he got to school.

His mom had tried to talk to him when she’d first begun the packing, but he’d ignored her, letting his silence speak for him. She was washing her hands of him, and Brad had nothing to say to her.

For the second time in fifteen years, Brad was being abandoned by a mother who was supposed to love and protect him. He figured his biological mother had had it easier. When Brad was less than a day old, she’d walked up to a fire crew washing their trucks outside of their station, and handed her baby to the first man who’d noticed her. Exercising the safe haven law, she’d left her baby with those who could care for him and walked away, no questions asked.

At least he hadn’t been left in a dumpster.

They’d whisked him inside - or so family legend said - the Paramedics had checked him over, then had bundled him into an ambulance for the short ride to the hospital. The pediatrician in the ER had declared him hale and hearty. Whatever else he’d been subjected to since his inauspicious birth, he’d been well fed, and kept warm and dry.

The police took a pro-forma report for Social Services records. A Social Worker placed a call to the woman who now stood filling a duffel with his possessions. After a night in the hospital, just to be sure Brad was healthy, his adoptive parents took him home.

Now, his adoptive mother was going to drop him off on the front steps of some fucked up military school, turn her back and walk away. Unlike his biological mother, this woman had been forced to feed and clothe him for fifteen years. Instead of handing him off in nothing but a diaper and a swaddling blanket, she was having to pack his underwear. Yeah, his biological mother had gotten off cheap.

Brad could feel his mom watching him from where she stood. He would not look at her. He would not let her see his tears.

He managed not to flinch when she abruptly sat down beside him. She wrapped her arms around him, locking his own to his sides. He could smell the scent of her hair when she lowered her head to his shoulder.

“I am _not_ abandoning you, Brad,” she said quietly, as if reading his mind.

He refused to cry.

“It kills me to think that I’m dropping my baby off, to be cared for by strangers. I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you. I just don’t have everything you need, sweetheart.”

She lapsed into silence for awhile. Brad swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and wondered if she was trying to wait him out. He wouldn’t surrender. He sat, fists clenched, spine straight.

“I could send you to a Magnet school, so you wouldn’t be quite so bored. You could continue playing football and basketball, but then what’s going to happen in between seasons? You need constant stimulation. You need to always be challenged. I’m failing you, Brad. I don’t seem to have it in me to give you what you need.”

Her words confused him. She made it sound like this was her fault, and not his.

“You’re a good boy. You don’t mean to get into trouble, I know that. You are going to be a very good man, as long as I make sure you have the guidance and discipline you need.”

Her arms loosened around him, and Brad thought she was going to leave him alone so he could finally cry. Instead, she ran a hand through his long, shaggy hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. She hugged him again, around the waist, leaving his arms free. He wanted to hug her in return, seek the comfort her motherly touch normally provided. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“This school has everything you need. The classroom curriculum is the best in the state. You’ll actually have to do your homework and some studying to maintain your grades. The military drills and the sports programs will give you the focus and the discipline you need in order to stay out of trouble. There won’t be as much idle down time. You know that’s when you get yourself into trouble.”

Brad refused to acknowledge the truth of her words. He refused to absolve her of this abdication of her parental responsibilities. He clenched his jaw and breathed shallowly through his nose, battling for control of his emotions.

Suddenly, his mother’s hands were on either side of Brad’s face. He fought her as she tried to turn him, tried to force him to meet her eyes.

“Bradley, look at me,” she ordered, using the voice she reserved for her most severe lectures. “Look at me, Bradley.”

He had no choice, his mother’s hands and voice compelled him to comply. Her dark eyes were warm, and filled with shifting emotions.

“You _are_ my son, and I love you very much.”

Brad choked on a sob. He wrapped his arms around his mom and allowed himself to be pulled into the warmth of her embrace.

The words she had spoken had been her mantra for as long as Brad could remember. When he was younger, she’d always said, “You’re my son, and I love you very much.” A little over a year ago, she’d changed the emphasis and it had remained that way ever since.

The change had come the day he’d torn the new family portrait off of the wall and hurled it across the room. The photo that had visually emphasized Brad’s foreignness, the fact that he didn’t fit in, didn’t belong. The portrait hung front and center in the house, making it obvious to all who entered, how Brad’s angular features and cool coloring did not fit with the family’s softer, warmer countenances.

The frame broke when it struck the wall. The corner left a gouge in the drywall and glass shattered when it landed on the tiled floor. Brad stood, shaking with rage and resentment, grimly pleased with the destruction he’d wrought.

His mom was across the room before he could blink. The sound of the blow was like a gunshot. Her palm connected with Brad’s cheek, snapping his head to the side and stinging enough to make his eyes water. She didn’t utilize corporal punishment often, so when she did, it got his attention.

His mom clutched his arm, her hand strong and claw-like. She dragged Brad through the house to the broom closet where she kept the cleaning supplies. She forced him to take out the broom and dustpan, then she supervised him sweeping up the broken glass.

In silence, they salvaged the photo and threw the remnants of the frame in the garbage. Her quietude and patience scared Brad more than if she’d yelled and hit him again.

His mom dragged him to the sofa, and made him sit down. He didn’t know what to expect, but her coming to stand between his legs and hold his face between her hands was not it.

“Why, Brad?” she asked, watching him intently.

“Because I don’t belong,” he blurted, surprising even himself.

“Don’t belong where?” her confusion was obvious.

“Here. I don’t belong here.” Brad couldn’t help the tears that spilled from the corners of his eyes to run down into his mom’s fingers. “I don’t look like anyone else. I’m not your family.”

“Bradley, Bradley, my sweet boy,” her face suffused with pain. “I went out in search of you. I _chose_ you. The day you came home with us is one of the happiest of my life. How you look is irrelevant. I couldn’t love you more if I had given birth to you myself.”

During talks like this, Brad’s mom usually ended by telling him, “You’re my son, and I love you very much.”

That day, she made a significant change. “You _are_ my son,” her voice was raw with her emotion and Brad watched as her own eyes filled with tears. “And I love you very much.”

His entire body vibrated with relief at her words, and he didn’t resist when she pulled him into a hug.

Now, as they sat on his bed together, Brad desperately wanted to believe her words. He shuddered with the effort of holding back his sobs.

“The first time you get phone privileges, you will call me,” she insisted. “If I have to pay the Commandant to force you into it, you’re going to call me.”

Brad laughed through his tears in spite of himself. He had no doubt his mom would do this.

“Your first weekend pass, I will drive up to bring you home. I promise.”

He nodded his understanding, unable to speak.

“I am not abandoning you. I am _not_ turning my back on you.”

Brad let his mom press his head to her shoulder, and he finally gave himself over to his tears.

~*~

Brad grabbed the handles of his small bag and hustled out of his dorm room. He’d gotten his ass chewed for leaving his mother sitting in the front office, waiting for him. She’d promised him she was coming for him today. He’d finally gotten a pass, and when he’d called to tell her, she’d said she was coming to bring him home for Rosh Hashanah.

He hadn’t wanted to believe her, so he hadn’t packed his bag the night before.

Brad’s company commander- a tall, good looking upper classman with a knack for tactics - had found him in the library, someplace he actually needed to frequent these days, and ripped him a new one for disrespecting his mother this way.

It hadn’t taken him long to toss some skivvies, a clean uniform, and his dopp kit into a bag, and double-time it to the office. Most of his civilian clothes and possessions were back home, anyway.

Brad burst through the office door and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of his mom. He hadn’t expected to be so fucking happy to see her. He watched as her face lit up when she saw him. She rose to her feet, smiling brightly.

Brad shifted his weight from foot to foot, knuckles going white on the handle of his bag. He was strangely uncomfortable under his mom’s scrutiny. He didn’t think there was anything special to look at. His gray wool uniform, brass buttons, braid and epaulets were the same as you’d find at West Point or the Citadel.

“Oh! My word, you’ve grown, sweetheart,” his mom gasped, eyes running over him repeatedly.

She knew he’d grown. Everyone knew he’d grown. She’d had to fork out for a new set of uniforms, just a few weeks ago, when it was determined he’d outgrown the first set enough to be considered unacceptable.

It was just … well … Brad hadn’t realized just how _much_ he’d grown. Now, once again in his mom’s company, he could see that he was taller than she was now.

His mom wound her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. Brad dropped his bag and awkwardly hugged her in return. He was used to her throwing her arms over his shoulders, only now, he was too tall for her to do that.

In the car, on the ride home, Brad’s mom filled him in on all the family news that they hadn’t been able to fit into the few phone calls he’d been allowed to make. It had taken him six weeks to get his first phone privilege. Six weeks of battling the system he’d been dropped into against his will, only to wake up one morning and realize he didn’t hate the reveille bugle. Brad actually looked forward to his classes, and his afternoon drills, even more.

After that, rewards and privileges had been awarded frequently.

When his mom finally began to ask questions about how school was, she listened attentively as he talked. He hadn’t planned on saying much. Brad had wanted to punish his mother for sending him here and walking away. He’d wanted her to think he was miserable and suffering. After just a few questions, Brad couldn’t stop talking.

“It really looks like you’re thriving, honey,” she burst out suddenly, gripping his knee almost painfully as she continued to drive. “That’s all I ever wanted for you. You have no idea how relieved I am.”

Brad liked it when his mom was happy. He especially liked it when she was happy with, or for him. She’d even kept her promises; being home when he was supposed to call, and coming to bring him home for the High Holiday.

The Commandant of Brad’s school had cautioned his mom to keep as much structure and discipline in his routine as possible, or risk him getting into mischief. This meant chores, homework, curfew, and friends coming to the house to visit, under his mom’s watchful eye.

Jennifer and Ryan came to visit together. Brad’s best friend and girlfriend, for the last three years, spent nearly the entire day with him. As helpful as they tried to be to his mom, especially Jenn, they were finally kicked out of the house, if only just to the small park at the end of the street.

Brad sat on a swing, now too small for him. Beside him, Jenn twisted in circles. Ryan sat in the sand, looking up at them as they talked. They were happy for him. They were happy he was happy. Jennifer surprised Brad when she suggested his mom might let him come home and go to school with them again, if he stayed out of trouble long enough.

To Brad’s surprise, he didn’t like the idea. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud, and risk seeing disappointment on his girlfriend’s face.

~*~

During the spring of Brad’s junior year, his mom came to get him – as expected – for Passover. They had a routine now, and he knew what time to expect her, so Brad gathered up his bag and went out front to meet her.

As he jogged down the steps, he saw she was already in front of the school, waiting. She must have been early, because Brad was right on time.

His mom was leaning against the side of her car as she waited for him. At first, Brad thought she didn’t see him. As he drew close, he realized she saw him, she just didn’t know it was him. Brad’s own mom didn’t recognize him. He came to a stop in front of her, watching her polite expression morph into one of shock.

“Bradley?” she asked, mouth hanging open as she stood up from the car.

He smiled down at her, strangely pleased at her surprised reaction. When he’d left home just after the New Year, he’d been just over six feet tall. Now, he stood just under six-foot-four. He felt everyone one of those quickly-gained inches in his bones and his joints. Growing pains, they’d told him in the infirmary. He ached almost constantly, and was only now regaining control of his extraordinarily long limbs.

His sudden awkwardness had kept him in his dorm room more than usual in the past months, and during that time, Brad had discovered he had a love of, and a knack for, all things electronic.

“Hey, mom,” he said, looking down at the woman he could still remember having to look up at, not so long ago. “Ready to go?”

“You’re a giant,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms open wide to hug him. She pulled back to look him over closely. “Oh, you’re going to need new uniforms, aren’t you?”

They had quickly learned to buy Brad’s uniforms oversized, to be taken in at the beginning of the term, and let out as he grew. The uniforms he now wore had already been let out the previous winter. Now, his jackets fell just above his wrists and his trousers were practically high waters.

“We suspected you might turn out to be tall,” she mused with a disbelieving shake of her head. “But we had no idea.”

Brad’s smile faltered at the reminder of his heritage. He wasn’t related to his family by blood, and there was no one they knew to serve as a benchmark for how Brad might look as a grown man.

“You are so handsome, Brad,” his mom said, pulling him from his reverie. “Jennifer is going to be beside herself when she sees you.”

Brad forced a smile for his mom’s benefit. He was afraid of Jenn’s reaction. He’d grown so tall so fast, he still didn’t quite feel at home in his own skin, and he wasn’t sure how his own girlfriend was going to feel about it.

Late that night, after Ryan and Jennifer had left, his mom pulled him down to sit beside her on the sofa. She set aside the book she was reading. His mom was always reading.

“You need to give them time to get to know you, when you come home each time,” she said softly. “You’re gone for so long, then when you come back, you look so different. You even take me by surprise.”

Brad nodded his understanding, even as his memories brought a stabbing pain to his chest.

“Ryan is no taller than your father, so your height has got to be intimidating. But, that’s his problem, not yours.” she reached up and ran a gentle hand over his close cropped hair, then slid a finger over his cheek. “You’re more than a little handsome, Brad. You’re only going to get better looking in the next few years. When you fill out? Sweetheart, the women will be beating down your door.”

Brad’s face heated. His mother’s frank assessment of his looks embarrassed him, even as it pleased him. Pretty girls chasing him down was a pleasing thought. Then again, there were a few boys at school that heated his blood, too.

That wasn’t something a guy could share with his mom, though.

“Jennifer is very aware that you’re more attractive than she is.”

“Mom,” Brad’s protest was sharp. “Jenn’s a pretty girl.”

“She’s got her good points. But you have to be aware that she’s going to be worrying about how you’re going to handle how other people treat you, looking like you do. And you’re only getting better.”

“Are you saying she’s _jealous_ of me?” Brad had never considered that possibility.

“I think they both are. Not that they mean to be. Not that they want to be. Neither of them may realize it. Which is why you have to be the bigger man, and be patient with them, each time you come home.”

“Are you just saying this ‘cause you’re my mom?”

She smiled and shrugged. “Well, maybe. I might be. But then again … no, not really.”

Her honesty made Brad chuckle. Talking to her had left him feeling lighter than he had since Ryan and Jenn had arrived.

“Okay, handsome,” his mom said, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. “Better take yourself up to bed. Long day tomorrow.”

Brad kissed her forehead, then went up to bed.

He awoke the next morning to the mouth watering scent of roasting lamb. The Passover Seder was about the only time his parents observed strict kosher. He found his mother in the kitchen, cooking traditional meals.

Brad reached for a piece of Matzo and lox, only to have his hand slapped away.

“What?” he asked in annoyance.

“Fast of the First Born, Bradley.” his mother moved the plate out of his reach. “You’re the first born son, remember?”

Brad remembered. He couldn’t forget. In the years before his Bar Mitzvah, Brad’s father had observed the Fast in his place. The first Passover after his Bar Mitzvah, Brad had been so proud to observe the Fast.

The following year, he’d quietly informed his mother he wasn’t going to participate, ever again.

“But why?” she’d asked, confusion and hurt warring in her eyes.

“Because I’m not _your_ first born. I may not be _anybody’s_ first born,” he’d shouted at her angrily.

He’d stood before her rigidly, fists clenched at his sides, anger burning through every fiber of his being. He’d clenched his jaw and practically dared her to argue.

His mom had come to stand directly in front of Brad, taking his face between her hands. “Passover. We celebrate Moses leading the Jewish people out of Egypt, and out of slavery, right?”

“Yes.”

“You remember, Moses was adopted, right?”

Brad wavered, in spite of himself. “Yeah.”

“Moses’ adoptive mother loved him as much as she loved Pharaoh, didn’t she? Maybe even more.”

“I guess.”

“Even Pharaoh loved Moses, as if they were brothers by blood. Am I right?”

Brad knew where she was leading and he didn’t want to help her get there. He didn’t want to be wrong in his rebellion. He clung desperately to his anger.

“You are my son, Bradley, and I love you very much.” she brushed his bangs off his forehead and out of his eyes. “In my eyes, you _are_ my first born, and I couldn’t love you more if I _had_ given birth to you. Understand?”

Brad nodded, not trusting his voice as tears pricked at the backs of his eyes.

“Adopted children can do great things, too, you know.” his mom kissed his forehead. “Who knows? Maybe someday you’ll lead a group of people out of an unforgiving desert, too.”

Brad doubted that would happen. But in that moment, he didn't doubt his mother’s love.

~*~

Passover of Brad’s senior year was a turning point in his life. He’d made some decisions about his future, and he feared they weren’t going to go over well. Even with his mom.

Late one night, he wandered into the quiet living room, dark except for the Tiffany lamp by which his mom sat reading. He dropped down to sit on the floor at her feet. After several long, quiet moments, he heard her set her book aside.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. I guess,” he said reluctantly, unsure of his answer.

“What’s going on in that handsome head of yours, sweetheart?” she ran a finger lightly along his cheek, like she’d done his entire life. “You’ve gotten so cerebral, lately. Sometimes getting outside of your own head and talking about it helps.”

“I don’t want to go to college,” Brad blurted.

His admission was met with an interminable silence.

“Well,” his mom said, slowly. “I’ll admit I’m disappointed to hear that. Still, what is it you want to do instead?”

Jennifer’s earlier reaction to his news made Brad hesitate in answering his mom.

“I’m going to join the Marine Corps.”

“Oh. Can’t say I didn’t see that one coming.”

“What do you mean?” Brad dared a glance at his mom.

“Honey, you’ve been attending a military academy for the last three years and you’ve been _thriving_. I’m not an idiot. It’s obvious that kind of life agrees with you.”

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

“As your mother, I feel I should point out that you could attend college first, then enter the Marines as an officer.”

“And this is where I point out that if, in four years, the Corps isn’t for me, I can still go to college and even get them to help pay for it.”

“Yeah, I knew you were going to say that,” his mom sighed. “Since you seem to be sure of what you want, what is it that’s still bothering you?”

“Ryan and Jenn both think it’s a mistake. They said I’m supposed to go to college here at home, so we can all be together again.”

“They did, did they?” she asked, enigmatically. “Did either one of them give a reason that addressed _your_ needs and wants, and not just their own?”

It wasn’t a question Brad was ready for, and he hesitated to answer. “What if I’m the one being selfish? Only worried about myself and no one else?”

His mom sighed heavily. She patted the sofa beside herself. “Come on, kiddo, climb on up here.”

Brad pushed himself up to sit next to his mom, but he couldn’t relax. Instead, he sat forward, resting his arms on his thighs. He stared down, blindly, at the carpet.

“When you think about being a Marine; when you consider what that means for where you may have to live, or travel to, or the things you may have to do, do you feel happy? Does thinking about it make you want to go out and accomplish and achieve things? Do you picture yourself wearing the uniform proudly?”

“Yes, all of that.” Brad’s relief was acute. His mom understood. The knot in his belly loosened. “Nothing else I think about doing makes me feel the same way.”

“If you were to do anything with your life, other than become a Marine, would you feel as though you’re settling?”

“Mom,” Brad winced at his own plaintive voice. “I think I’ve always been a Marine. I’m only just now realizing it.”

“Now, what exactly is selfish about that?”

Brad shrugged.

“I’ll tell you what’s selfish; selfish is one person trying to manipulate another person into doing something they don’t want to. Selfish is trying to convince someone to do, or not do something, simply because it’s in your own best interest and not theirs.”

Brad didn’t know how to answer. Awkwardly, he rubbed a finger over his upper lip.

“If they really loved you, Brad, they’d take the time to talk with you and find out how you feel. If they bothered to understand how important this is to you, how right it feels to you, they’d encourage and support you. Not try to talk you out of it.”

For the first time, Brad turned to look at his mom. “But isn’t it selfish of me to just go and do something that impacts their lives, too? Shouldn’t what they want matter?”

“This would be an example of a situation where _adults_ learn to compromise. If you were to give a little in one area, have they offered you anything, at all, in return?”

All Brad could do was stare at her, wide eyed.

“Are you the only one expected to give _anything_ , here?”

He turned back to glare at the carpet, letting his silence be his answer.

“Sending you to military school was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I would have been happier having you home with me. Sending you away was what was best for _you_ , not for me, so that is what I did. Because I love you.”

Brad’s mom slid her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his shoulder blade.

“You, my son, deserve to be loved unconditionally. Threatening to withhold their love from you if you don’t do exactly what they want you to? You deserve so much more than that.”

“But I love them.” Brad sounded small and lost to his own ears.

Her arms tightened around him to emphasize her next words. “You need to love yourself, first and foremost. _Then_ , you demand that those in your life love and accept you for who you are, your strengths and your weaknesses, without condition.”

Brad reached for one of his mom’s hands where it pressed against his ribs. He wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed. Her answering squeeze was equally fierce.

“I won’t be eighteen when I graduate so I need you to sign some papers,” Brad said, after many long moments of simply feeling loved.

“That’s fine. You need to tell your father. He won’t give you a hard time, but he deserves to hear it from you directly.”

“Yes, ma’am.

~*~

Brad stared down into brilliant green eyes that were currently burning with anger and frustration. Those eyes were framed by brows arched in challenge. The mouth he stared at - with a frequency that was absolutely inappropriate - was currently pressed into a grim line. He fisted his hands to keep from reaching up to free the full lower lip.

He flinched and gasped in surprise as Nate suddenly reached up to grasp Brad’s face between both of his hands. He stood there, mouth agape, staring stupidly at Nate.

“ _You_ are who I want, Brad. And I love you,” Nate’s voice was a strong and steady. Brad read nothing but solid conviction in his eyes. “If I have to be discrete, and if I have to make frequent coast-to-coast plane trips, I’ll do it. You mean that much to me.”

Nate.

Nate knew all about Brad, the good and the bad. He understood Brad’s quirks, and was never put off by them. He understood all of Brad’s mercurial moods and just rolled with them. Nate didn’t judge when a sudden movement made Brad flinch and reach for his sidearm. He stood before Brad, offering up a compromise before he’d even asked for anything from Brad, except to be loved.

Nate. The man Brad had helped to lead a group of men through an unforgiving desert.

Reaching up, Brad took each of Nate’s hands in one of his own. He tugged them down from his face, but didn’t release them. Nate’s brow furrowed in confusion and concern. Keeping Nate’s hands wrapped in his own, Brad pressed them to his own chest.

“What are you doing this weekend, Nate?”

“I don’t know. What _am_ I doing this weekend, Brad?”

“You’re going home with me. I think my mom needs to meet you.”

 

finis


End file.
